This Maniac
by Alpha-alien
Summary: Harleen had worked at Arkham for six years. She thought she was in control when she volunteered to treat the Joker. She had thought she could handle his long looks and odd sense of humor. Never, in all her years, did she think she would love him.
1. Mister J

This Maniac

i

* * *

Harleen Quinzel was at the ripe age of twenty-five. She had worked at Arkham Asylum for nearly six years, starting off as an intern for the, now institutionalized, Jonathan Crane. She was now part of the psychiatric team. Her white heels clicked against the linoleum floor, as she tucked a piece of her blonde hair behind her ear, and stuck a pencil there to hold it in place. Her bright blue eyes gazed out from behind a pair of horned-rimmed glasses. She gently bit down on her lip, as she flipped through the chart she was carrying.

Harleen always did extensive research on who she would be helping, but this was a special patient. She had personally volunteered to treat this patient. She had been following him through the news, like most everyone in Gotham, and had been taking notes on his behavior. He was a odd one. She had, through what she knew, diagnosed him as a clear a psychopath, possibly with a mild-to-extreme form of narcissism and paranoia. Did she think he was insane? Well, she believed everyone had a bit of insanity inside them, just waiting to break free. The residents of Arkham just embraced their insanity more than those outside it's wall.

She swiped her card key, entering an Employees Only lounge. As she closed the door behind her, she heard the conversation in the room over.

" ... take him. She's crazy!"

"Don't speak so loud! She'll hear you!" a voice hushed the first, how laughed.

"So? She'd take it as a compliment." Harleen sighed, and crossed over to the coffee pot. As she poured the Joe into a cup, the conversation continued, but she had grown bored of eavesdropping. Stirring in two packets of sugar and a small bit of creme she yawned. Harleen had been up all night, gathering her papers for the day ahead. She took a sip of coffee and sighed. Sitting down in a chair, she crossed her legs and pulled an abandoned newspaper closer to herself. She scanned through the articles, finding the one about his capture. She smiled, reading about how the police force had cheered when they found him, hung up by his ankles. He never tried to escape, and, had it not been for his actions, he could have been mistaken for a model citizen.

Harleen glanced at her wristwatch, then up at the wall clock. It was nine o'clock. Time to start therapy. She stood, took her coffee mug and left the lounge.

She smiled and waved at one of the guards, who tilted his hat in greeting. She ran her card key, mentally despising the high security for this section of the asylum. The guard followed her as she walked down the rows of inmates. They howled, hollered, cat-called and berated her as she walked passed and ignored them. Her destination was just at the end of the hall. The therapeutic room. Here she would have to use her card key, and get the guard's hand print to open. She took a deep breath and opened the door, and stepped inside.

Inside the room, it was all painted white. The floor was rugged after a foot or so away from the entrance. The few clicks of her heels caused him to look up from the table, the only piece of furniture in the room, apart from two chairs. His hair was light brown under all the grease and paint. His face had been wiped clean, but bits of black still clung under his eyes, and red seemed to have been permanently tattooed into the folds of his scars. He licked his lips and watched Harleen with his dull brown eyes. She crossed over to the table and sat down, placing her mug next to her and pulling the pencil from behind her ear. The guard stood next to the door, at ease. Harleen gave a genuine smile, and crossed her legs.

"Hello, Mister J. My name is Harleen Quinzel." This caused the man to grin.

"_Mister_ J, huh?" he licked his lips once more. "I _like_ it."


	2. Afterthoughts and Side Effects

This Maniac

Joker laughed, tossing his head back. Harleen hadn't said a single word, apart from her introduction. She raised an eyebrow and tapped her pencil against the table.

"Mister J, what is so amusing?" she asked, staring at him. His head snapped back, and he lowered his body towards the table, and gazed at her.

"I wa_sn'__**t**_ expecting such formali_**ty**_." He said, leaning back in his chair, keeping his gaze on Harleen. It was _very_ intimidating, but she merely smiled.

"If you would rather, I can call you Joker," she said, causing him to laugh again.

"_No, _no. I _like_ Mister J." he said, grinning more. Harleen thought his scars would break and bleed from the grin, "It makes it like we're _friends_." Harleen offered a smile back.

"Well, I suppose we are. I know much about you,"

"But _I, _I know nothin_g_ about _you_." Joker pointed out, "_You_ are a

comple_t_e str_a_n_ger_." The 'r' was drawn out for a few moments, and

Harleen decided this was his speech pattern. His 't's accented heavily, his 'r's were drawn out, and she noted he liked putting emphasis on a few words.

"Well, Mister J, what would you like to know about me?" she asked, picking up her pencil.

"Well," he began, bringing his hands together and lacing his fingers, "I'd like to know," his eyes studied her for a moment, "if _tha__**t**_ is your real hair color." Harleen blinked at the strange questing.

"Yes, it is natural." Joker laughed again.

"It's so … blonde!" he said, between fits of laughter. Harleen was unsure if she should feel insulted or not.

"Is there anything else you want to know?" she asked, annoyance written on her face. Joker's fit of laughter died slowly, before he stared at her.

"Do you have a boyfriend?" Harleen blinked at the question and became flustered.

"W-what does that have to do with anything?" she asked, pushing her glasses back to the bridge of her nose. Joker laughed, and rested his head in his hands.

"Nothing. I just wanted to see your reaction." he said, like a child who refused to admit he took a cookie from the cooling tray. She frowned and kept her glare trained on him. Joker merely stared back, amusement played on his face.

"So, do you?" he asked, again, smiling.

"That is really none of your business." Harleen said, sharply.

"That's a 'no', then." Joker leaned back as Harleen made a sound of exasperation.

"I don't have time for this." she mumbled, picking up her mug, clipboard and pencil. The hour had passed. She turned and walked towards the door.

"So, when's my ne_x_t check_u__**p**_?" Joker asked, remaining at the table. Harleen slid her card key and the door unlocked.

"Two weeks." she said, before walking out the door.

_That could have gone better_. She thought, bitterly sipping at her, now cold, coffee.

The day continued on without incident. People would assume Arkham would have problems with all the inmates and criminally insane. Typical. Harleen yawned as she entered her small house. She turned on the light, tossed her keys on the side table and noticed her phone was flashing red. She crossed over, pulling off her heels, and pressed the Play Back button. The machine clicked and whirled, before a male's voice crackled through the speaker.

"Hey, Harleen. It's me." Harleen turned and smiled. _Kevin!_ "Yeah, I'm sorry, but I can't make our date tonight. Work is sending me to Rhode Island." her heart fell, "But I'll make it up to you. How does _Le Chateau_ sound? Next week?" Harleen's mouth fell open. "_Le Chateau?_" She cried in astonishment. The machine laughed; obviously Kevin had expected a similar response. "I love you, Harleen. Take care of yourself." the phone clicked and beeped. Harleen couldn't help it, she squealed for joy, and began a small lap around her living room. "_Le Chateau_! _Le Chateau_! I can't believe he got us into _Le Chateau_!" she said, before flopping down onto the couch.

Harleen smiled, and picked up a picture lying on the table next to her. In it showed a strip of pictures from a booth. Each held Harleen and a man with black hair cut short and stunning green eyes. They hugged, kissed, pinched each others' cheeks to make the other smile and looked absolutely in love in each strip. Harleen smiled and set the picture down. She stretched her legs and turned on the television, turning to an old black and white movie. Smiling, Harleen stood and walked back into the kitchen and fixed herself some dinner.

Harleen stepped out of the shower, wrapping a towel around her thin frame when the phone rang. She frowned and hurried towards the phone. Picking it up, she spoke.

"Hello?"  
"_Quinzel?_" It was her boss.

"Yes, Dr. Shumocker?" she smiled, pulling her hair over to her other shoulder. She glanced at the clock hanging on the wall and noted the time: almost eleven. She shook some water out of her hair as the voice began to talk once more.

"About your vacation, I'm afraid I need you here. It seems too many of my doctors are leaving and I'll be severely understaffed if they all take off." Harleen frowned. She had been looking forward to the next week off. She'd have to cancel with Kevin - and _Le Chateau_. Not something she was particularly keen on.

"Well, Dr. Shumocker, I already had plans and I -"

"Harleen, please!" This caught her off guard. _Harleen? Wow, this must be serious_, she mused. Finally, she came to her decision. She didn't like it, but it had to be done.

"Alright. I'll be in."

"Thank you." the line went dead and Harleen slammed the phone back into its cradle. "_Bastard_." she whispered, storming off into her room to change.

"Do you honestly _think_ I want to be here?" Harleen hissed into the mouthpiece of her office phone. On the other end, she could hear Kevin taking a deep breath. Harleen's nails clicked against the desk, and she bit her lip, eyes darting every so often to her office door. She could see doctors' shadows shuffling past the tinted window. She could faintly make out her name stenciled to the outside glass in blackened bold letters.

"Harleen, sweetheart," Kevin spoke calmly, but Harleen could hear he was still very upset, "do you know how long it took to get those reservations? Do you know how much money I had to save up?" Harleen frowned.

"Kevin, I don't _want_ to be here! I want to be with you at _Le Chateau_. I want to be dressed in that slinky green dress you love and my hair down. I want to drink wine and, and," Harleen paused, catching herself before she raised her voice. Some shadows seemed to be slowing down, but continued on their way.

"Kevin, I have to be here." Her hand reached for the phone's cord and her fingers began to twirl around it, becoming tangled. "I'm sorry."

"Sorry isn't going to give me back my money," Kevin said, bitterly. He sighed, "I guess Amanda and her fiancé can enjoy themselves." Harleen smiled.

"I'm sure they will." She closed her eyes and leaned back in her chair. "I love you,"

"Love you, too." The phone clicked and Harleen placed the receiver in its cradle.

"Shumocker, you're an asshole." She muttered, pressing the heel of her palms against her eyes. She needed caffeine, and these reports weren't going to write themselves.

Harleen sat down in the employee lounge, a fresh cup of coffee sat to her right, steam curling from the lip. In front of her were her notes on the Joker. Mr. J had no other alias. Not even fingerprints seemed to help. It was as if he had just appeared in Gotham out of the blue, riding in a small blue police box. She couldn't help but chuckle at the image, but her smile broke into a yawn. Well into midnight, Harleen had just one last report. She had to write up how the Joker's first session went. She learned nothing from him she didn't already know, and the majority of the session had him in fits of laughter.

He wasn't like the other inmates. They would clam up, refuse direct eye contact and when they decided to talk, would hurl expletives at their doctor. The Joker, however, sat calmly and never took his eyes off Harleen. He had made idle conversation, and had asked to learn more about _her_. That sent a small tingle down her spine. She rolled her shoulder, and stared up at the ceiling. Next session would probably be the same, and the one after that. Just the two of them, chewing the fat. Shooting the shit. Talking like normal and civilized humans. Looking down at her short report, it had barely crossed a single paragraph; she wrote a small note way down on the paper.

_Would like to continue to observe and see._

As she gathered her papers, and prepared to drop off the final report, she couldn't help but feel like a school girl clutching a love letter she would slide into the locker of the most popular guy in school.

She chuckled again, but this one, even to her, seemed nervous and uncertain. The only other sound that could be heard in the near deserted halls were the sound of her heels clicking on the linoleum and the sound her skirt made as it brushed against her thighs as she walked.


	3. Stories about Scars

Yep.

The infamous "scar story" chapter.

I hope this story isn't going too slow for you guys.

:c

Please let me know in a review if it is.

Or you can just leave me a review and tell me what you think.

I do like reading them.

c:

* * *

This Maniac

"Mister J, I'd like to ask you a few questions," Harleen twirled her pencil around her fingers, keeping her gaze steady on the man before her. The Joker leveled his eyes towards her, and smiled.

"I've been as**k**ed a lot of ques_t_ion_s_, Mi_ss_ Quinz_el_."

"That may be, but I still would like it if you answered mine."

"Wha_t_ if I, ah, already answered them?"  
"Then it would be easy for you to answer them, again." Harleen smiled as the Joker giggled. As the fit died down, Harleen continued.

"What is your name?"  
"Ah, the Joker." he smiled, smugly. Harleen's face never altered.

"Your real name."

"What if that is my real name?"

"Your parents named you 'Joker'?"

"Mmm, no." Now, her smile shifted. Harleen looked serious.

"Then, what did they name you?"

"Does it matter?" Joker leaned back, looking off into a corner. "They named me, and I named myself. If _you_ ever learned what they named me, _I_'d respond to _it_ just as quickly as Joker." his eyes turned back to Harleen. "Or _Mister J_, as you've _so_ adorably named me." He gave a short burst of the "_hee-hee_"s. Harleen shook her head.

"So, you're not going to tell me your name?"  
"Ah, no." The answer was short. Harleen made a note. The Joker leaned forward like a child. "Whatcha writing?"

"Stuff." Harleen looked up, covering her notes with the flat of her hand, and smiled. The Joker pouted, and pulled away.

"Why do you think you're here, Mister J?" this was the question. The one most inmates would go off on. State everything they'd done, in fine detail, and grin. Joker simple smiled, polite as you please.

"Because everyone else thinks I'm crazy." He raised his hand, handcuffed to his other wrist, and waved it around. "All of Gotham, those doctors," he smiled and pointed towards the guard standing behind Harleen, "even Dudley Do-Right, there, don't ya?" The guard remained silent, but did make brief eye contact with the inmate.

"Do you think you're crazy?" The question seemed to have thrown him off. He blinked, before replying.

"I, ah, don't think that matters. I'm already here," he smiled.

"So, you're not going to answer the question?"  
"Nope."

"That's very mature."

"Isn't it?"

"How about a question you love to answer?"

"I have one of those?"  
"How did you get those scars?" Harleen smiled, and stared at him. He licked his lips, lacing his fingers together, as the tip of his tongue poked at a scar.

"Well, when I was a little boy," he began, "I was usually such a happy child."

"Is this the one where your father was a drinker?"

"Oh, no. My father was a _saint_!" Joker smiled. "My mother, on the other hand, was a little bit …" he paused for the right word, "Loony."

"Now, don't get me wrong. They were both loving and doting parents. And before I was born, they were both healthy, in body _and_ mind." He rotated his head, causing his neck to pop. "But, while she was pregnant with me, she got _sick_. And even giving birth almost killed her." He licked his lips again, jabbing deeper into his Glasgow smile.

"She survived, but was never really the _same_. See, she'd go off on the tiniest things. A dish was out of place, I got a whuppin'. I missed a patch of grass while mowing the lawn, sent to bed without dinner. I didn't call her ma'am, she made sure I couldn't sit for a week." He shook his head, chuckling. "One day, I come home to her and dad yelling. Apparently, the paint in the living room was uneven." He took a breath, here, and stared at the florescent light fixtures above them, as if remembering a long-ago place. "I was smiling, since I had gotten an acceptance into the college I wanted to go. She sees me and goes off even more!"

"_Why are you smiling? Do you think this is funny?_ She yelled, and I stopped, realizing what I had walked into. Before I could say anything, she grabbed the letter opener and stuck it in my mouth. "_Well fiddle-dee-dee! Don't frown, now! Smile for mommy! Smile nice and big!_" He motioned to his mouth. "Then she made me smile. Dad had called the cops while I was bleeding, and mom ran upstairs and locked herself in their bedroom. Slit her wrists and died while the police broke the door down and I was rushed to the hospital."

Harleen had been tapping her pencil against the desk while the Joker told his tale. "That's a very sad story."

"Isn't it?"

"What happened to your father?"  
"Died of a broken heart." Joker shrugged, looked at Harleen, and giggled more. "He took up drinking, but always locked himself up in the bedroom, wouldn't let me go and talk to him."

"I am very sorry to hear about that."

"I'm not. It's already done and dead." Joker leaned back, smiling. "Isn't our hour _up_?" Harleen blinked, and looked at the clock. Their hour had been up at least ten minutes ago.

"So it seems. I'm sorry to have kept you late, Mister J."

"It has been a pleasure to keep _you_ late, Miss Quin_el_." Joker nodded his head.

As Harleen gathered her things, she could feel the Joker's eyes never leaving her body, and as she turned to leave, he called out, "Good bye, Harley! Take care!" before breaking out into a fit of giggles.


	4. Home Life and Plots

Maybe this chapter is a bit short?

:c

Not sure, but I still hope it's acceptable for you all.

Review, please.

* * *

This Maniac

"Harleen, I wish you would quit your job at that nut house." Kevin stabbed at his steak as he spoke. Harleen huffed, crossing her arms. The two sat in her dining room, the television showing Gone with the Wind. "You could get a job with me, you know." He smiled, shoving the meat into his mouth. He chewed, juices falling down his chin. "I could use a secretary." He grinned, wiping his mouth with the napkin. "One who I could do nasty things with." Harleen growled.

"Kevin, I _like_ my job at Arkham. If I didn't want to work there, I'd have quit before." Harleen said, glaring. "And for the last time, I will not fuck you at work."

"_Harleen_," Kevin looked around, hissing her name as if afraid someone would hear her. Harleen groaned, dropping her fork.

"Kevin, you're impossible. You've been trying to get me to quit since we started going out! What are you afraid of? I'm going to fall in love with another doctor? Or do you think I'm going to run off with an _inmate_?" She asked, irritated. Kevin began to laugh, causing Harleen to glare more. "I'm serious, Kevin. Why are you so hell bent on making me quit Arkham and work with you?"

"I just, I just worry about you Harleen." Kevin's face turned solemn, but his eyes still held amusement. Harleen stood from the table and left. "Harleen?"

"I'm not hungry, anymore." She said, sitting down on the couch, and changing the channel.

"Harleen, don't do this." Kevin said, sternly, walking to the couch and looking down at her. Harleen ignored him, keeping her attention on changing the channel every five seconds. Football, cartoons, reality TV shows, all sped passed the screen, before Harleen finally stopped on the news.

" – and is expected to make a full recovery. Back to you, Jim."

"Thanks, Allan. Still top news, the Batman is still at large in Gotham City. The Batman, a vigilante, is wanted now for playing a hand in the murders of countless citizens, including ex-Commissioner Gillian Loeb and D.A. Harvey Dent. The people of Gotham are advised to not approach the Batman, if seen, and to call 9-1-1. In other news, a church fundraiser took a turn for the strange, as a man dressed in a Halloween devil's costume ran naked throughout the church screaming in, what many eye-witnesses described, 'tongues of the evil one'. The man was not captured, but the patrons of Gotham Baptist Church want justice."

"Nut jobs." Kevin muttered, leaning against the couch. "Should be locked up in your nut house." Harleen frowned, looking up at her lover.

"I wish you would quit calling it that, Kevin." She said, "Arkham isn't as bad as you think it is." Kevin scoffed, and walked back to the table, pouring himself another glass of wine. Harleen sighed, and looked back at the television. She crossed her arms, and hardly paid any attention to what was being said. Kevin was leaning on the couch, again, this time holding his glass in one hand, and the bottle of wine in the other. Harleen began to wish she hadn't bought the wine. She knew he would single-handedly go through that bottle, and then Kevin would begin to invade her personal space, slurring his words. He would kiss and touch and Harleen would fight, but in the end, Kevin would win out. He always did.

She closed her eyes, and shuddered at the sound of more liquid being poured into the glass. She clutched her elbows tighter as she continued to sit still.

"Harleen," her eyes opened. "Why you so defensive? C'mere, and give Kevin a kiss." And so, the long night began.

[oo]

Harleen lay in bed, wearing nothing but a thin sheet. Kevin was on his side, snoring loudly. Harleen allowed her head to roll to its side and she stared at him. Her body ached, and she knew she would have marks. Marks she could easily cover up with make-up, but marks nonetheless. Slowly, Harleen slipped out from under the sheet, and pulled on her robe. She took one last look at Kevin, before leaving her bedroom and entered the bathroom for a long, hot shower.

[oo]

At Arkham, all through the night, Joker sat on his bench/bed, his fingers drumming against his knee. He kept his gaze outside the door, listening to his fellow inmates yell and scream. He was certain at least three of them were smacking their heads against the wall. He continued to drum his fingers and even began humming softly.

Yes, Arkham was hell, but only because he was so _bored_. He had no intentions of staying here, no sirree. He'd get out. Already, his mind was turning, formulating escape plans. He would stick around and be a _good little boy_. Oh, yes.

Joker began to giggle, madly. His laughter filled his room, and drifted out into the halls, where a lone night guard heard it and shuddered.


	5. Dirty Dreams

Was this one too short? It felt short.

At any rate, I've made the obligatory _time jump_ chapter. _wooooo_

Yeah, you probably don't care that much ...

I feel somewhat nervous about this chapter.

It's as close to smut as I've ever gotten. ./ /.

At any rate, reviews are nice to read. c:

* * *

Had it been two months already? Harleen looked down at her wristwatch, noting it was time to see her favorite patient. It seemed like it was only yesterday that Joker was brought into Arkham laughing like a madman and grinning ear-to-ear. Harleen smiled, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

There were rumors spreading, not just among the inmates but staff as well, that Harleen was showing _improper feelings_ for the Joker. It was absurd. She was a professional; she knew it was wrong to fall for her patients, especially those named Joker.

But a part of her longed to make it true.

Harleen fought hard to keep her heart from pounding right out of her chest when he looked at her, and had to restrain herself from swooning when he smiled. He spoke so calmly towards her, almost like he was connecting with her on a level above, well, everything.

Harleen was escorted inside the small room, and he sat there, smiling at her.

"Harley! I knew you couldn't stay away, forever." He turned his head to one side. "It's my good looks, ain't it?" the Joker giggled and Harleen bit her lip to keep from doing anything that may be perceived as improper feelings. She sat down and laced her hands together.

"Now, Mr. J," she said, taking a deep breath. Her eyes flashed over to the guard who didn't seem to be paying attention, "I want to try a simple word-association test. You know how those work, right?"

"Ah-yeah." He licked his lips, nodding. Harleen smiled and looked down at the list of words she had chosen.

"Fire."

"Cleansing."

"Anarchy."

"Corruption."

"Money."

"Flammable." He grinned watching Harleen. She bit her lip, and read on.

"Chaos."

"Fun."

Time for the curve balls.

"Puppy."

"Loud."

"Ball."

"Bouncy."

"Children."

"Annoying."

"Flowers."

"Pretty."

Harleen looked up. Joker was smiling at her, his head propped in his hands.

"Pretty?" she asked, forgetting the test she was administering. The Joker leaned forward, smiling more.

"_You_." Harleen's cheeks grew warm as she looked down at her notepad. Her hand had been writing without her knowing and what she saw made her face turn even redder.

_Harley+Joker_

She swallowed and closed her eyes, taking off her glasses. A loud siren caused her to look up. In the hall, inmates were yelling and laughing. She turned and saw the guard ready his shotgun and race towards the door. She stood to follow, but felt a hand grab her wrist. Looking down, she saw it was connected to the Joker's hand. Somehow, the handcuffs had been unlocked on one hand, and the metal hung off his left wrist.

Joker pulled Harleen closer to him and she watched as the door closed and locked behind the guard. She could open the door, no problem. But part of her, the part that longed to make those silly rumors true, kept her where she was; practically laying on the table with the Joker hovering over her.

Her breath caught in her chest as she tried to speak. "M-mr. J?" she whispered. Why? He smiled, straddling her hips, keeping that one arm pinned.

"You're very pretty, Harley." He whispered, leaning down close to her ear. She could feel his breath and she closed her eyes. She whimpered as his teeth grazed against her lobe and he chuckled. "Nervous?" Harleen closed her eyes, her breath quickening as she tried to calm herself.

His other hand traced against her leg, gently gliding up past her skirt's hem. Her eyes opened as she stared into his gray ones. Her lips parted to say something, but his crashed into her lips before she could make a sound. His lips were chapped, rough and tasted like blood. His hand continued on up her skirt, the calluses added a rough texture to his already leathery hands. He smelled of smoke, for some strange reason, and paint.

And Harleen loved every minute of it.

Their lips parted and their tongues danced. He won and kept her pinned to the table, as articles of clothing began to be torn away. He hands explored her body and she whimpered in need, want, and desire. Her hands attached themselves to his back, as her nails gently scratched against his skin. She tossed her head back, bit her lip and moaned. He entered, and Harleen felt every muscle in her body jump.

She opened her eyes and stared, this time, at a darkened ceiling. She was sweating, even with the A/C unit running on high. She looked over at her alarm clock and sighed. It was past six. It was all a dream. She sat up, and pulled her bed sheet away. She still felt riled up and took the coldest shower she could handle.

[oo]

"That's it for today's session, Mr. J." Harleen looked up at the Joker and smiled. He grinned back at her, handcuffed hands resting on the table. "Like usual, you'll be escorted back to your room and we'll see each other in two weeks." Joker nodded.

"I _promise_ to be a good boy, Harley." He joked, giggling. Harleen smiled.

"See to it that you are." She stood and walked towards the door. As it was opened Joker spoke once more.

"Oh, and Harley, dear?" she turned a look of curiosity painted her face. Joker smiled and waved his fingers in her direction.

"You look _pretty_ today."

She didn't turn away fast enough to hide her blush from him, no sirree. Joker saw her blush and giggled more. As he was pulled roughly from his chair and shoved back towards his cell, her red face remained in front of him.

Yes, Harley Quinzel would work _just_ fine.


	6. Slip

Harleen sat quietly, her fingers interlacing with each other, and gently biting her lip. Her eyes were drawn to her lap as Harold Shumocker sat in front of her, looking at the pile of reports in a manilla folder. She knew all to well that folder was marked "Joker".

"Quinzel," he finally spoke, making her jump slightly. "I've gone over your reports, and I have to say they are very thorough. However, I think you may be getting a bit too," he paused, leaning back in his chair and linking his fingers, "_personal_."

"Personal?" Harleen frowned. "What, what do you mean?" she sat straighter, squaring her shoulders.

"You're making more frequent visits with him. It's not healthy." Shumocker looked at her, and Harleen felt herself begin to blush.

"I, er, don't know what you mean Dr. Shumocker." Harleen, began to squirm in her seat.

"I want you to take a few weeks off."

"_What_?" Harleen squeaked, her glasses sliding off her nose. She hurriedly pushed them back into place. "B-but Dr. Shumocker you, you can't really be serious!"

"I am." Dr. Shumocker closed the folder and pushed it to one side. "Harleen, I'm doing this for _your_ well being." He stood and placed a hand on her shoulder. "Go home."

[oo]

Harleen found herself at home. She wasn't sure what to think, so she didn't. She sat down on her bed and took to staring at the opposite wall. What happened? She remembered leaving the asylum. She remembered walking to her car. But the drive over? Walking into her house? Nothing. Did she talk to anyone? Did she hurt someone? Forcing herself to remember only yeilded a headache. She bit her lip and closed her eyes.

"Harley, you're crazy." Mister J whispered in her ear. Harleen jumped, and looked around. She was alone. Running a hand through her hair. "I'm going crazy," she muttered.

"That's, ah, what I said, _Har_ley." Harleen bit her lip, and squeezed her eyes closed.

"Oh, jeez. Shut up."

"You're talkin' to a man who ain't there, Harley." Mister J cooed. She swore she could feel the heat of his breath on her ear. "Crazy old Harley." he erupted into a giggle fit. She opened her eyes, and took a deep breath.

"Maybe Harold's right," Harleen muttered, "Maybe I was getting too personal. Maybe this vacation will do me some good," She stood, shakily, and walked over towards the bathroom.

"You can't shake me, Harley." Mister J whispered in her ear, "I'm too, ah, _deep_ inside you. Or maybe that's what you'd li**k**e?" Harleen bit her lip, as she stripped down. "Ooh, yes. You'd like _that_."

"Be quiet!" Harleen snapped, stepping into the tub while she turned on the water. He was silent, and Harleen closed her eyes.

"I'm here, Harley. You ain't getting rid of me." her lip quivered when she realized that she was perfectly fine with that.

[oo]

"Harleen, your hair's getting long." Kevin stared as Harleen pulled her hair into a ponytail. She looked over at him and frowned.

"Yes, Kevin. It is."

"You should get it cut. Short is sexy on you."

"Kevin, please. I like my hair long." Harleen crossed her arms, scowling.

"Yeah, but you'd look sexy with short hair. Trust me," Kevin wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her closer. "C'mon Harleen. You're on vacation from that crazy house. Be spontanious! We could try new positions." he winked, dipping his head down to her neck. Harleen allowed her body to dip back, and found herself looking into a mirror.

Mister J sat on her couch, grinning at her.

"You just _love_ being manipulated, Harley. That's why I like you." Harleen giggled.

[oo]

This girl was _not_ his Harley. Her hair was all wrong. Short, dark. Her eyes were equally dark. She showed way too much cleavage for working in an insane asylum. It was like she _wanted_ to be taken advantage of. And her voice, _oh sweet merciful lord_ her _voice_!

She sounded like Fran Drescher.

"So, Joker," she arched her back, and looked over at him, "how are we today?"

"_We_?" Joker frowned, looking at her. "I don't know about _we_. I'm quite sure there's only _me_."

"Now now, Joker," Not Harley wagged her pen, which Joker noticed had a tiny kitten perched on top, at him, "That kind of sass is not welcomed here."

"Where's _Har_ley?" Joker asked, poking the inside of his cheek with his tongue.

"Oh, Dr. Quinzel is off on personal vacation." Not Harley said, boredly, "Now, let's talk about you. How are we today?"

"_You_. _We_." Joker frowned more, chewing on his tongue, "You seem _confused_ as to who's insane." Grinning, he pointed to himself, "Popular vote says _I'm_ crazy."

"Joker, _sass_!" Not Harley glared, "I won't tolerate that kind of attitude. I don't care _what_ Dr. Quinzel lets you get away with, but _I_ have _rules_!"

"I don't _do_ well with rule_s_." Joker began to grind his teeth. This woman was getting on his nerves. "When will Harley be back?"

"Two weeks. Now, let's try to get along, shall we?" Not Harley smiled and tapped her pen against her notebook. Joker felt a headache start.


	7. Reunion

Look at that! I'm not dead! I'm totally alive and there's a new chapter here!

Gods be praised and all that!

* * *

Two weeks had been _quite_ a long time apart. For both Harleen _and_ Joker.

Joker had ran Not Harley away every day early (yesterday had been a record! Five minutes!) and had been sent back to his isolated cell, giggling. But, the more he had to put up with Not Harley's ever growing ragged features, the more he began to ... _miss_ Harley. No, now that can't be right. That's _unheard of_!

He just wanted her so he could get back to playing with her. Toying with her mind and just get _out_ of this madhouse! But, when he heard the soft whispers of doctors he passed - whispers that his Harley was back - something funny hit him. Not _ha ha_ funny, either. It was a ... tickle. A tickle in his stomach. And as he tried to snuff out that strange tickle, damn near succeeding too, his Harley came into their room and the tickle erupted as he stared at her. And his grin widened.

Harleen had pissed Kevin off. He had _paid_ for her to cut her hair short. Technically, it was shorter. Before, her long hair reached down her back where now it hung around her shoulders - and had been highlighted with darker brown. So, yes. She cut her hair - but it wasn't what _he_ wanted. And for once, Harleen hadn't cared. When he stormed off she had stood outside the salon, curling her hands through her new hair style and when he drove off, leaving her to have to take the bus? She giggled, skipping and humming as she did the rest of her clothing shopping alone listening only to Mister J's compliments and suggestions.

"_Well_ well! Did you do _some_thing with your, mm, _hair_?" Mister J purred out, smiling to her. "All for _me_?" Harleen couldn't help but giggle. And that giggle agitated his tickle.

"Now, Mister J," she said, taking her seat and going through the papers she got from Sheryl. "I heard you gave Dr. Marshall some trouble."  
"_Mar_shall..?" Joker blinked, before it clicked who they were talking about. "_Oh_ Not Harley?" Harleen looked up, "Yes. She might want to make ahh.. _reservation_ here." Joker waved his hand around. "I think _she_ thought I was _two_. Can you _imagine_? _Two_ of _me_?" he giggled, shoulders shaking.

Harleen couldn't help the smirk on her own face. Or the blush. _Not Harley_? He'd dubbed Sheryl _Not Harley_?

_I'm thinking too much into this._ She reasoned, setting the issues Sheryl had with Joker aside. _It's childish nature. He didn't want to cooperate with Sheryl so he didn't bother with knowing her name._

So why did he bother to learn _yours_? More so, why did he give _you_ a nickname, _Harley_? Those were questions she couldn't answer. Not without sounding insane. But the silent thoughts send her heart fluttering.

"Alright, now Mister J. Let's get back to work, shall we?"

"Mmm, whatever you sa-hey _Harley_." Joker said, hunching over the table, grinning to her. Her heart fluttered more as she smiled - and that damn _tickle_ wasn't going anywhere!

[oo]

"Harleen, what's wrong with you?" Sheryl glared to her coworker as they sat in the lounge. Harleen looked up from her Sudoku puzzle, blinking.

"What do you mean?" Harleen asked, trying to recall when the woman came in. She seemed to have gone back to how she was before treating Joker in Harleen's absence. Her top still exposing massive amounts of cleavage, her short hair pinned back and her nails painted. But the look on her face? Harleen could see a few wrinkles forming.

"Mean? What to I _mean_? Harleen, you're insane! Everyone's thinking it! I'm saying it!" Sheryl screeched, slamming her hand down on the table. "You. Are. Insane."

"Why am I insane?" Harleen had a hunch she already knew _why_.

"That _maniac_!" Yeup. "You're ... _flirting with a killer_!" Ye - WHAT? Harleen blanched, staring at Sheryl.

"What? I ... What?" Harleen stood, glaring to Sheryl. "What in God's green earth are you on, Sheryl? Me? Flirting with a patient? With Mister J?"

"There!" Sheryl jabbed her perfectly manicured finger into Harleen's chest. "_Mister J_. You've got your own _pet name_ for him! And he calls you _Harley_! You two are having a secret love affair!" Harleen blushed as she stared open mouthed at her coworker.

"L-love affair? Sheryl, are you listening to yourself?"

"Look at you! All _tarted up_ for your beau!" Sheryl flicked at Harleen's hair. Harleen glared.

"Listen you, I'm not having any secret _anythings_ wit' _anyone_!" Oh dear... her accent was starting to slip ... "I happen to show Mista J _respect_ and he does the same t' me! Now you leave us alone, Miss I'm-a-whore!" Harleen wasn't sure what happened next. One minute she was glaring down Sheryl the next she was getting pulled off her coworker, her hair falling in her face, Sheryl's nose bloodied and broken and she had _chipped a nail_ on the bitch!

"Quinzel! Marshall! What the hell are you doing?" Shumocker glared, storming into the lounge, eye twitching. Sheryl immediately went into pity party mode.

"Dr. Shumocker! Harleen just attacked me! I - I didn't do anything!"

"_Liar_!" Her Brooklyn accent was thick, no hiding it now. "You were trying t' spread lies about me and Mista J! You're a little whore!"

"_Harleen_!" Shumocker glared. "My office. Sheryl, go to the clinic, get cleaned up. _Now_."

[oo]

Word had spread fast through Arkham. The guard in front of Joker's cell had even shared the news.

"Your girlfriend's got a bit of a bite to her." he had said, looking to the clown. "I'd keep her on a short leash if I were you." he had teased before falling silent.

Joker was good for it. He stared down at the floor, his mind churning this new information. And that tickle teased him.

_Girlfriend? Give me a break. Where am I, middle school?_


	8. Anger Management

_"Docta' Shumocker, let me explain!" Harleen hadn't pulled back her accent. Too many emotions. "Sheryl was spreadin' ruma's! I-I couldn' let 'er get away with it!"_

_"So you broke her nose?" Shumocker glared, sitting across from her at his desk. Harleen ran her fingers through her hair, trying to smooth the tangles. "Harleen, this kind of behavior is unacceptable!"_

_"I-I know Docta'." Harleen said, embarrassed. "An' I'm sorry. I just.. I was just angry!"_

_"Which is why you're going to anger management. Starting tomorrow." Harleen looked up, shocked._

_"W-what? B-but Harold!"_

_"Don't, Harleen! It's either A M or you're fired!"_

[oo]

So that's why Harleen sat there, one leg crossed delicately over the other, smoothing out her skirt and adjusted her I.D. pinned to her chest. "I don't see why _I'm_ here and not Sheryl." she grumbled, crossing her arms as she finally sat still.

"Because Dr. Marshall didn't break your nose without provocation."

"_Without provocation_?" Harleen glared. "She was spreading _lies_! I'd call _that_ provocation!" Alex Greene sighed, scratching the back of his head.

"Harleen, _this_ is why Sheryl isn't here, too." he said, looking to Harleen lazily. "She's not running around getting all bent out of shape because someone is spreading a lie. We aren't in middle school anymore." Harleen huffed, looking off to a side. "Now try to cooperate, okay? The sooner you do the sooner you can stop coming here and the both of us can get on with our lives." Harleen groaned, sinking deeper into the chair and pouted. She could just _hear_ Sheryl still talking. Still spreading rumors about her and Mister J, making snarky comments and whispering lies about seeing them in _unprofessional_ positions.

As if she even _could_! You know ... that meaning she even _wanted_ to do the horizontal tango with him ... Because she _totally_ didn't! Even though he was probably _amazing_ in -

"Harleen?" the woman jumped, blushing as she looked to Alex. "Are you listening? I said we need to talk, now." she frowned.

"Talk about what?" she mumbled uncrossing and recrossing her legs the other way. "She pissed me off, so I punched her."

"You broke her nose.."

"And I've told you why."

"Have you always been angry, Harleen?"  
"Are you playing shrink?"

"Harleen, you're being hostile."

"I'll show you _hostile_!" Harleen hissed. "I don't need this bullshit! I'm _fine_!"

"Harold disagrees."

"Harold can _suck it_. I'm fine! I'm not angry and I don't need you trying to pry into my head to find _the center of my issues_!" Harleen stood. "I'm glad I broke her nose! She's a slut, and I'm leaving!"

"Then I suggest stopping by Harold's office to turn in your I.D." Harleen froze, looking down to her chest, her fingers brushing against the laminated tag. "You already knew his ultimatum. Anger management or you're fired." Harleen glared, eye twitching.

She didn't need this job. She didn't! She could go back home and live with her parents. She could get a job there away from crazed killers and women who spread lies. She could breathe fresh air and not have to worry about anyone whispering behind her back. She could be alone. By herself. No one to argue with her about getting _too absorbed_ with patients. No Kevin to try and change her.

And away from Mister J.

Why did that matter? He was just an inmate! It didn't matter. Not a damn bit! But regardless, she turned, going to sit back down and politely laid her hands in her lap. Alex raised an eyebrow and smiled. "That's more like it. Now then ... " he straightened and Harleen mentally sighed, prepping for a _long_ two hours.

[oo]

_Tickle._

_Tickle._

_Tickletickletickletickleti-_

He couldn't stand it! It was annoying! Joker wanted to carve into his stomach and _rip_ that tickle out!

He groaned, glaring to the ceiling and all around his cell. His Harley, he'd been running around his head all night. He hadn't been able to _not_ think about her. Her hair cut, her supposed anger. And _why_ she'd attacked Not Harley. But it was always the strangest thing that pulled her back into his mind - her smile. How her cheeks got painted that rosy color when she blushed.

Strange things. Strange thoughts. Damn tickle! Joker growled, clawing at his stomach before pushing up from the bed. This wasn't right. This wasn't natural. Why wouldn't that woman just _leave him alone_?

He needed out of this place. Now.

* * *

Short short short...


End file.
